


Animus

by aristocrattttt



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics)
Genre: Angst, BIG Praise Kink, Car Sex, Cussing, Dirty Talk, Drinking, F/M, First night hook up, Fluff, Jealousy, Lingo, Marijuana, OFC is a black girl, Out of time storytelling, Party, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Series, Sex, Smut, Woman on Top, black culture, but not too much lingo, cursing, early 2000s, nonlinear, tipsy sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-02 18:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristocrattttt/pseuds/aristocrattttt
Summary: A series of happenings between Bay & Erik.





	1. Chris’s Car

Her calves burned. Between the stress of holding herself up enough not to sink too completely down as not to injure herself, and the constant up and down motion her thighs created, between all this and the early morning cheerleading practices coach had held all last semester, her legs would be in superb shape. 

Erik let her go on that way, cautious, for some time, but quickly grew tired of it. His arm wrapped around her front, his right hands coming to cap her left shoulder, forcing her all the way down on his dick, and her back against his chest. The groan that ripped from her throat was enough to make him twitch inside of her. Less pretty than animalistic. He let his hips move up into her the way they’d wanted to since they’d started. Another groan, longer this time. “Why you not taking it?” Another thrust, but he didn’t pull out any farther. Just pushed himself deeper. “Huh?”

This was never the plan. She was never supposed to fuck Erik, maybe just flirt, maybe get his number, she was supposed to get Chris’s charger to use, she was supposed to walk out with Kennan, which she was doing just fine, his big hand friendly on the small of her back. Kennan was undoubtedly attractive—in fact, at one point, the two of them briefly dated, and made a very good looking couple. Kennan with his green eyes and sandy hair, and Bay with her smooth skin and shapely waist. The problem was, was that they really only looked good in pictures. Otherwise, they were bland and had little to talk about. 

But Erik hadn’t known that. Erik only knew that the pale nigga’s hand was too low, Bay’s smile was too comfortable. Erik offered to walk her to the car, “It’s dangerous out here at night, and this nigga can’t protect you babygirl.” Bay had almost laughed at how red Kennan got, but she was able to politely dismiss him before letting herself giggle. Her eyes were on Erik from the moment he’d laid his hands on her shoulders.

“It’s too big,” The words had tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. “fuck, it’s too much.”

She could feel Erik either smile or bare his teeth against her neck. “Yeah?” He didn’t let up. “I’m too big for you?”

More thrusts. He pulled her hips down to meet his rising ones. Even deeper. Her cervix pinched and her walls recoiled in opposition to Erik’s rock hard dick bruising her. Her head dropped towards her chest when he moved his arm from around her to pull her arms behind her, forcing her back into a harsh arch. “It’s too much!”

“Pick your head up.” She obeys. “It hurt?” He slows down, finally allowing her slight relief. 

“Yes, God, it hurts.” 

“But you like it.” Not a question. He knew better than Bay did. He could feel how soaking wet she was. He bet if they hadn’t’ve been in the dark confines of the back seat, he’d be able to see how much she liked how rough he was, all over him, nice and white. 

As talkative as he had been, Bay didn’t hear his deep rasps by her ear or over her neck again, other than passive whispers she wasn’t meant to pay attention to, the occasional open moan until a very clear, concise, “shit” rings throughout the closed windows and doors. Hisses, rather.

Erik felt her begin to tighten more and more, the coil that was her body threatening more and more to pop. He wondered if he should take care of himself, give it a few last thrusts and leave her on the edge. He was very tempted to let her limp back into the basement, see her little (big?) friend and struggle to explain where she went, why she was so suddenly irritable. He bet her pretty face would look cute all screwed up, her little nose ring poking out as she scrunched up her nose. The thought alone was enough to damn near make him lose control. He cursed as he felt himself twitch.

But then her thighs began to tremble. “Let my arms go!” She suddenly demanded, and Erik did, from sheer curiosity. Her hands clutched his legs for support while she readjusted herself, moving her legs from inside of his to sitting completely on his lap, legs spread across and over his as she sank down on his dick once again. One palm grasping his thigh, and the other flew to her clit, her head leaning back on Erik’s shoulder as she grinded on him. She brought herself to bliss. All Erik could do was watch as best he could in the darkness, in awe. 

Finally her body sagged. He chuckled, dryly. “Who told you you could do that?”

“I did.” Her voice was a rasp, tired. 

“Well I wasn’t finished.”

“Wrap it up then.” Her words were confident but her chest still heaved, her legs tingled.

A hand slithered around her throat. A hand creeped down to her clit. She gasps, her body stretched taught by his long limbs, her legs still impossibly spread. “Don’t tell me what to do, Ma. I got this.” 

Up until that point, when Bay had slept with a guy, even Kennan, when they got close they got lazy. Their rhythm was off, the pressure applied to her spot just disappeared, and they started sounding like a cartoon monster. Then they went floppy. So she was completely unprepared when Erik stretched her body far and wide, somehow found himself a new angle to attack her pussy from, and—rhythmically—tore her completely up, the pad of his calloused finger pressing hard against her clit. Deep inside her, he poured himself into her and moments later, she gushed.

Moments go by, her, stunned, and him, sensing her amazement and smirking. He let himself recuperate, but he was sure she’d need more time. He wasn’t kind enough to give it. Instead, he gave her thigh a firm slap and told her—rudely—to get up. She did, but she didn’t make her displeasure a secret. “Don’t rush me.”

“Do you want these back?” He held up her thong, breezing by her chastising. 

“Yes!” She snatched it from him, hastily and clumsily slipping it on and trying to straighten her dress in the small backseat. She didn’t wait for him to put himself back into his pants before she got out. “Fuck,” She placed a heated hand over her equally hot forehead. “the car is gonna smell. Did we fucking stain the seat? Shit.” She started to stumble back into the party before realizing leaving him in her friend’s car to his own devices was a bad idea. “Come on!” He looked out of place, his large figure in the Neon, dressed like a celebrity and crouched up.

Lazily, he emerged. “Don’t rush me. My leg fell asleep.” They begin their trek back.

“My legs are fucked up.”

“Just wait.” 

She starts at that. “For?”

Erik wrapped a thick arm around her shoulder, using her as an effective armrest, to her bemusement. “We ain’t nowhere near finished.”

She was silent for a few moments, much longer than he expected. “Your place or mine?”  
_____________________________________________

Although she’d asked him initially, she ended up making the ultimate decision after a 5 mile long spat as she drove Chris’s car towards her brother’s place. 

“My place is closer.” He argued.

“Chris is gonna want his car back, and his place is near mine.”

“I’ve got places to go in the morning.” 

“Me too.”

“I live alone.”

“I don’t?” She didn’t. But how could he have known? Bryson wouldn’t be home anyway. She side-eyed him and he side-eyed her. 

In the end, she didn’t want to go to this strange man’s home by herself. 

“Do you want to fuck some more or not?” She ended the argument there.

“Don’t think I’m pressed, babygirl.” But he relaxed in his seat.  
_____________________________________________

The apartment she’d taken him to was smaller than his, but that’s what he had expected. The kitchen walls had pictures all over, smiling glossy ones full of family, and over crowded paper chuck-e-cheese ones. He spotted a few of a little Bay in a too-big cheer uniform, holding her pom-poms proudly. There were many of Bay, he noticed. Always posing. 

She lead him to her bedroom, where her bed took up most of the space. Posters and magazine cut outs were taped onto every space she seemed to be able to find. “Is that Eartha Kitt?” He pointed to a larger sheet, taped along the side of her body length mirror. 

“Mhmm,” She mumbled from the bathroom, where she’d gone to freshen up. “She’s beside Kara Young, I think.” 

Erik didn’t know who Kara Young was, but she was squatted, her long legs tucked under her. She was pretty, but he thought the darker skinned model with a multitude of pictures was prettier. Her features reminded him of Bay’s. Very youthful, mischievous, everything on her face looking very small and large at once. The bed dipped behind where he sat on it. He didn’t turn around. “Who’s she?”

“Kiara Kubukuru.”

There were a few he’d be stupid not to know—Naomi Campbell—and some he recognized but couldn’t name. Others, he was at a complete loss for. They were all different shades of black, though. He liked that. “She’s my favorite.” 

Finally, he turns around. Perched on her knees, her back was straight and her little hands were laid gently on her thighs. She was peering up intently at her adorned walls. Not a single part of her skin that was touched by the light of her tall lamp didn’t look golden, and there was quite a bit of skin out, being that all she wore was a thong. He knew she wasn’t shy, but he had been taken aback yet again.

Her intention was to be posed sexily on the bed, ass up and eyes inviting, but he had distracted her with her own cut outs. When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, though, he had pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes raking her. It wasn’t as if she needed the hungry, needy looks males and females alike granted her to feel attractive, but it gave her a thrill she just couldn’t get away from. For as long as she could remember, approval—appreciation—was intoxicating. Erik’s materialized in the form of the slickness between her legs. 

She didn’t move, by way of pumping her ego all the more. She knew he would move first. Why trouble herself? 

He proved her right by sliding his palm up from her collarbone, over her throat, squeezing slightly before moving farther up to her jaw, which he gripped hard, and used to pull her to him, forcing her onto her hands and knees, crawling. Her hands slipped from under her when he gave a particularly aggressive tug. He smiled. She went to express her disdain, but his hand was too big, too tight around her chin and mouth for her to speak. Still holding her, he nodded to the space in front of him, pulling her lightly to lead her off the bed. 

Somehow she found herself on her knees, on her floor, between his long legs, one hand firmly on the back of her head, the other holding her chin. Briefly, she wondered to herself if she’d really allow herself to be treated that way—if she’d suck his dick after his rudeness—but then she was looking at it, strong, and hard and straight and dark, and she knew there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do. In fact, she was so eager to do so much that after swallowing more than once, she worked for another, in prideful awe peering up at him. Every curse and groan made her wetter. 

“Aight, get on the bed.” He avoided admitting how drained he was. He watched her ass sway as she crawled. 

Hand, knee, hand, knee, arch. Her palms slid over her pillows until her cheek rested behind them, her arms thrown gracefully over her head. Erik was damn near hypnotized at more than just her ass. The curve of her back was one he’d never seen beyond the porn he watched.

When Bay had taken dancing classes throughout elementary and middle school, her instructor—a wicked looking lady with skin stretched very taught over her long skeleton—would harp on Bay’s flexibility specifically, since she wasn’t actually a very good dancer. Adequate, but she could never get the technique straight, and she cared little for leaping and rolling. Mrs. Jubilee would push Bay’s pelvis down against the ground with ferocity until she finally got her middle split. Flexibility is a mindset, Mrs. Jubilee would say.

Then, Bay would cry at the thought of practicing her leg lifts, but as an adult, in moments like these, she loved to amaze whomever shared her bed with her ability to put her legs behind her head and such. 

Erik’s hands when spread her ass open, let go and let her heavy cheeks clap together, mesmerized. He got to his knees and slammed into her, just to test the arch she flaunted so proudly.

She yelled out, but he’s pleased to see her arch falter just the slightest. “Good girl.” He expresses, and watches her shudder at the praise. “So fucking tight.” He feels her clench in appreciation, pretty little mewls mixing with her pretty little moans.

By the time the night draws to an end, Bay was asleep before Erik had even pulled himself out of her, dick finally soft. He collapsed next to her, naturally demanding most of the space in the twin mattress.


	2. Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

When Bay’s arm flew up and slapped Erik’s warm chest, and he grunted, she was shocked almost as much by him not waking up from it as she was by the fact that he was still there. She didn’t exactly have a problem with him being there, but she didn’t know exactly how to respond to  
it. With the sudden urge to pee, she peeled the covers from her sticky body, only for her foot to catch in the tight corner of them, falling hard back into the tangle of she and Erik’s bodies.

“Your little ass keep hitting me we gone have some problems.” Her head snapped to look at him, alarmed at his awakening. His eyes weren’t open, and his adam’s apple bobbed.

She huffed, but repositioned herself to go to the bathroom, more carefully this time. She was quiet about slipping on a nearby pair of her brother’s basketball shorts, quiet about slipping on the tshirt she found. She shuffled to the bathroom, winced in advance at the pain she’ll go through later to detangle at her matted hair, did her business, brushed her teeth, and walked back out, thinking nothing of it when she hugged her brother on the way back to her room, laughing obnoxiously when he made a joke about how he heard her from his job.

She shut her bedroom door gently, minding its tendency to slam, as Erik was still shut-eyed and cozy.

“Who’s the nigga?” Evidently, he wasn’t asleep.

“Brother.”

“That’s whose shorts you got on?”

She pulled on the hem of the huge t-shirt she wore. “This your shirt?”

“You ain’t see what I had on?”

She definitely had. “It’s an all black t-shirt.”

“Yeah,” He closed his eyes. “it’s my all black t-shirt.”

“You want it?”

“Yeah.”

She took it off. She wore nothing underneath.

“Here.” Her tone was clipped as she waved it at him from the foot of her bed, but there was lightheartedness in her features.

His eyes were open, then. He adjusted himself in the bed, so that he was sitting straight up, back against the wall (as she didn’t have a headboard), legs comfortably open. “Come give it to me.”

She threw it at his head. He caught it.

She ended up giving him the shorts, however. Their morning went slowly, and she was glad.  
_____________________________________________

“What time you leaving?” She sat at her mirror, finally showered and properly dressed, combing through her ratty hair.

“You kicking me out?” Erik was showered too, dressed in his clothes from the night before, though you’d never know.

“Nah,” Her response was immediate, but she had to pause and ponder on if she meant it. “I’m not. You said yourself you had shit to do today.”

He nodded, putting his watch back om. “I do. Where your shit at?”

She had told him she would be busy today, too, but it was mostly a lie. Her only plans were to go swimsuit shopping with Kayla. “Like 175th.” She remembered he was Harlem. “East. Want me to drive you over—what, 130?—and drop you off?”

“Nah, stay with me a little while after we get over there.”

“Over 130?”

“More like 145.”

She was put off. He was being entirely too nice. “Okay.” She said despite her suspicions. They were fully dressed by then, and at about a quarter to two, they were walking out to Chris’s Neon.

“Toss me the keys.”

Bay gave him a sideways look, and climbed into the drivers seat. He stood on the curb like a stubborn child. More and more she was beginning to realize he was a stubborn child. “Get in. I’m not giving you the keys to my friend’s car so you can give that up right now.”

He crossed his arms, tucked his hands in his armpits.

“Just get in!”

No movement.

Bay was never fond of arguing. The people in her family were, and so were her friends, but Bay wasn’t. Most of the time she found it easier to comply, and if she felt strongly, she did what she wanted anyway and ended the argument that way.

She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just slide over to the passenger seat, as she would’ve done if her brother, or Chris, or Kayla, or virtually anyone else had been the one demanding to drive, but she didn’t. She put the car in gear and drove forward. She only went slow enough to see his shoulder go stiff and his lips purse in disapproval.

She didn’t go far, though. Just to the next block over, where a few of her cousins and non-related cousins stayed. Her head was thrown back with laughter as she clutched the handlebars of the tiny deboed bike Emanuel pedaled as fast as he could with her sitting on the very handlebars she held on to when Erik strolled over, his hands in his pockets.

From his walk, to his outfit (just as clean cut and fresh the second time around as the first), to the way he hadn’t missed a single beat when Lamar bumped into him, it all demanded attention. He didn’t greet or look at anyone on his way over to Bay, but it was evident that he enjoyed the eyes on him.

Bay climbed off the bike sheepishly, tugging her shorts out of her ass, then faced him.

His hand wrapped around her upper arm slightly tighter than she was comfortable with. “Wassup, ma?”

Her weight shifted. “How’d you find me?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t all pleasant. “A whole block away?”

Lips in a small ‘o’ formation, she ducked her head just a tad. The people outside around them wouldn’t’ve noticed, but Erik was close enough to. “Chris wants his car back at four.”

“Then we gotta move.”

“Yeah.”

His hand was still squishing the flesh of her arm. “And I’m gonna drive.”

She supposed she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t likely he’d steal or damage the car. “Okay.”

His hand moved down her arm and back up, and he threw his arm over her shoulders, pulling her body with the weight of his to leave.

“Hold up, Bay! You not gonna introduce us?” There was an eruption of agreement to the shouts of one of her relatives.

“This is Erik!” She shouted back at them from the door of the car, as he hadn’t allowed her to stop walking.

“Erik who?”

“I go to college with him!” She sat in the passenger seat, hollering out the window.

“That’s your man?”

Bay would’ve said yes, to save herself explanation and embarrassment, but Erik had already pulled off.

The ride was nice, daresay. They found they had a similar taste in music, a love for old school underground, but they were different in that Erik was very fond of West coast rap. Teasing each other came naturally, as well. Conversation flowed easily for the both of them, so conversing with one another was all the better.

“I can’t take him seriously.”

“Doggystyle is one of the best albums out there.”

“Snoop Dog looks like my auntie.”

“Your auntie look like Snoop Dog.”

“Your mother.”

He snorted. “Who told you to put on those little ass shorts?” His eyes shot between the road and her thighs.

“You watched me get dressed.” She was glad she’d put extra effort in to thoroughly putting on her coco butter. Her skin was soft and glowing; she understood his stares.

She was right, of course, Erik had watched her come out of the bathroom clean and moisturized, and watched her pull her clothes on, he noticed that he liked the way her white t-shirt looked so bright against her complexion, and he noticed how she flushed when her shorts caught under her butt before she shimmied them on. He noticed how good she looked when she was sitting at her mirror, he just didn’t realize how much it would irritate him for others to notice.

It wasn’t as if he was typically possessive of any of the other girls he was in emotionless ‘relationships’ with, and especially not any of the one-night, short lived romps he’d been involved with. He never cared if anyone looked at them the way he did because what were they to him?

Regardless of his unknowingness, he did, indeed feel very against the prospect of people looking at Bay. Peering at her, eyes all bugging out of their heads.

He didn’t bother to reply.

After—what she felt was—an uncomfortable stretch of silence, Bay was irritable all over again. “Well I don’t know what you want me to do about it now. We’re out.” She plopped her (rather large) head on her palm, her elbow resting on the outwards jut of her door.

“‘We’ huh?”

She looked at him. “Huh?”

While she was touchy and beginning to get accordingly warm, Erik was just smirking. ‘I know something you don’t know’, smirking. “Nothing.” He turned the radio down as he looked for a parking spot. “This is my man’s place, I have a little business to handle-“

“Nothing heavy, right?” Something about they way her brown eyes widened made him wonder why she’d asked.

“Nothing heavy. Just turn down all that charm you got going on,” He paused mid parallel park to flick her chin with his index finger. “I don’t want them getting any ideas for when you come next time.”

“Next time?”

“Next time. Just do as I say and we should be cool, ma.”


	3. Erik’s a Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beach trip. 
> 
> Mature content. 
> 
> (also a little joke. dont get your panties in a bunch)

“If you come you gotta take pictures.”

Bay pushed her hair aside and turned so that the back of her neck was to Erik, who didn’t move. Although she couldn’t see, she was sure he’d seen her, just didn’t move. “Come on, tie it!” The strings of her bikini top dangled. 

Erik took his time standing and walking to her. When he finally was within reach, he pretended not to notice her irritable shifting. He took the strings in his hands, tied the first knot, and pulled. Hard. Hard enough for her to stumble back. So, he’d noticed. Oops. “Don’t start talking to me like that.” He said by her ear. “That brat shit gets annoying.”

“You get annoying.” But she looked more apologetic than anything else. “I’m excited.”

“You impatient.”

She frowned again. “You get me tight.” She swung herself around, drama in her step as she walked away. 

Their summer break was coming to an end, and Erik and Bay—Bay and Erik—had spent a surprising amount of time together. At the moment, Erik was convinced that they had worked so well because when she got nice and worked up, the worse that could happen is that she walked away, and he so loved to watch her walk away. A true model, she turned any ordinary carpet, concrete stretch, garage floor, etc, into her own catwalk. Her ass was just—indescribable, unexplainable—made him want to kiss his fingertips and dig in. He could hardly stay away. 

At best, when he pissed her off, she rode him a little harder than usual. 

“I ain’t getting in the car with your little friends.” He was talking to her back, but staring at the way the purple of her bikini bottoms rode up and started to disappear. 

He hated her friends, there wasn’t a single one of them he liked. First of all, there were too many light-skins in her crew. Light-skins made him itch. 

He didn’t like Kennan: that nigga was too touchy. He didn’t like Junior or Maria: they both defended Bush in an argument. He didn’t like Chis: that nigga thought he was better than everybody. If anyone was gonna be high and mighty, it was Erik. Why? Because he absolutely was better than everybody. Simple facts.

The only one of them he could stand was Kayla, and she was taller than him. He ain’t like that shit at all.

“Don’t call them ‘little’.” Kayla wasn’t little. “Your car is in the shop.” 

“Call a cab.”

“You paying?”

“It’s not my little beach trip, fuck would I pay for?”

She stopped halfway down one of her two braids. “You really get me tight.”

‘Tight’ was a phrase he’d gotten used to since coming to New York, but it wasn’t one he adopted. 

“Come ‘ere.” She kept braiding her curls. “I know you h-“ 

“Let me finish!” She was over halfway down her last braid anyway. 

He grunted, walked over to where she stood, and kept walking, so that she was completely immobilized and mushed between him and the mirror. Her arms stayed awkwardly up as not to let go of—and therefore ruin—her braid. 

“Get off!”

Her hair smelt like coconut and cucumber and blueberries and mangoes. “Say you’re sorry.”

She wiggled against him. “Sorry for what?”

“For yelling at me.” Or maybe he was smelling peaches, not mangoes, and maybe that was her skin that smelt that way, not her hair.

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them on her hips, holding her still. He trailed his nose from her hair down her neck and over her shoulder. “That’s a dub. Fuck you.” She was sighing.

He grunted again. It was her skin—her body—that smelled like peaches and coco butter. He forced himself to take a step back and put his hands back in his pockets. “Finish your braid. And hurry the fuck up.” 

She eyed him for another second, but turned back to the mirror, fingers working quickly. She had felt him against her back, she already knew she’d be apologizing later.  
_____________________________________________

They took a cab to the beach. It was ridiculously expensive and a 20 minute ride took an hour and Erik almost decked the driver when he commented on letting her pay. “He must not have a job.” 

“Yeah, he’s got a career, so mind your business.” That little out-of-character display gave him the need of adjusting his pants. She was far from a confrontational person, and there was really no reason that he didn’t pay other than the fact that he was an asshole. He hadn’t even told her what his ‘career’ was. 

Walking from the street to the beach, he felt nice enough to carry the cooler and her towel. 

“You’re not from here, though.” Once they had found her annoying ass friends, Bay had gone immediately to stripping him of his shirt, which, he didn’t mind. Eventually they ended up laid out, with her on her stomach and him on his back. 

His hand rested lazily on her butt. “I’ve been here for years.”

“Yeah, but you’re not from here.”

“Why you say that?”

“You slipped up and said West Bronx once. Nobody says that.”

“But I always call it Fordham.”

“Now. Where you from?”

“I’m an Oakland nigga.” 

“So that’s why you like all that West Coast bullshit!” She was laughing, her voice was like someone tapping piano keys. 

“Tupac over Biggie.” He said back, but he wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation anymore. He couldn’t stop staring at her. 

But she stared back at him. “I don’t even go over Brooklyn. I like Tupac too.”

Erik suddenly stood up, then scooped her up. He threw her over his shoulder and walked to the shore, winking at some chicks who peered at him over their sunglasses before slapping Bay’s ass. The chicks rolled their eyes. He grinned. 

He dropped her, and she stumbled and fell on her butt. “Dickhead.”

“Get up!” He was laughing, already jogging into the water. She pushed herself to her feet, clumsy with eagerness, and followed, dashing forward before launching herself onto his back. 

She latched onto him like a koala. “You didn’t even trip.” Like then, she often marveled at how effortlessly strong he was. Her lips brushed his ear. 

“You’re light.”  
_____________________________________________

“Is there anybody in my picture?”

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if there was? Now pose so we can leave.” Erik lifted the camera to snap away. 

“Wait!”

He lowered it. “Am I on the right side of the light?”

“Yeah, the moss grows on the right side, whatever.”

Despite herself, Bay giggled. He was the only person she’d met who’s sense of humor was both aggravating and delightful to her. She fixed and fluffed her hair, put her weight on one leg, and propped her foot. 

“I knew it!” He barked a laugh from behind the camera she’d gotten for her birthday last year—a Canon Digital IXUS 65–he laughed more at her puzzled expression. “I knew the foot was coming!” She frowned again, and he flicked his hand at her flexed toes. 

Suddenly bashful, she awkwardly readjusted herself into a new, non-toe pose. Her head was down. 

“What are you looking at?” More teasing. “Did you lose something?”

Bay stomped her foot and waved her arms impatiently. “Just take the picture!”

Finally, he did, and she was unposed, mid-shout, mouth wide open, arms flying.  
_____________________________________________

Bay’s friends eventually left, as did everyone else on the beach, but she and Erik lingered, as she had fallen asleep under the warmth of the sun and Erik hadn’t been in a rush to wake her. Eventually, though, when the air grew chilly, she woke up on her own. They laid in silence, watching the sun disappear in a spray of color.

They didn’t touch, at first, but slowly limbs drew together, skin in constant contact, hands stroking, lips, eventually, touched as well. 

Kisses thus far in their loosely termed ‘relationship’ had been precursors to sex, except once, when Bay had been at the laundromat and was approached by a man. Then, Erik kissing her was to save her from a slew of questions and unwanted attention. And they ended up having sex, anyhow, not even ten minutes later as his reward for heroic behavior.

The kiss they shared on the beach was much slower than they were used to. It held much more intent, it was no longer a formality but a necessary means of survival. On the beach, then, they drew their breaths from each other. Oxygen was shared and the rise and fall of their chests were in sync. 

There was little time between the kiss and Erik being chest to chest with Bay, entering her and biting his lip. A few soft, brief touches was all she needed and more than that, all they had time for. Their cover of darkness and the fact that they were tucked against a building near the shore would only last them so long. 

They wouldn’t need long. He had been half hard since they’d met, and watching her run and laugh and swim and lay and be in her little bikini all day had gotten him worked up enough. She was turned on from knowing so, and they both felt their skin grow hot at their newfound togetherness. The unbreaking eye contact, the way their skin rubbed and sweat together, the clutch Erik had not on her throat or her ass but on the back of her head, cradling it, her arms that held him tightly against her—it was all new.

For once, he was quiet. There was not a single demand or praise of how tight she was, nothing filthy was said, for once, his mouth was slack, unworking. It, in itself, was enough to tip Bay over the top, and she fell, sighing and hugging and stroking her body against his, wishing that they’d been in position to strip each other completely. Her top was still on, though askew, her bottoms pushed to the side, and his shorts weren’t even pulled down to his knees. The newness of it all was enough, though, she still finished and so did he, his head buried in her neck, breath coming out in harsh puffs. 

When he withdrew himself, slipping out of her and leaving her dripping and empty, he placed his forehead on hers and for once he looked very young. When they’d finally gotten themselves in a cab, and were on their way to her brother’s apartment, his head was tucked against her breast, eyes shut as she traced hearts on his cheek.


	4. Keeping Mary-Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is that a marijuanas
> 
> in my GOOD CHRISTIAN SUBURBS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summer nights, cookouts & shootouts,  
you see a bunch of scamming niggas with the coupes out

Erik couldn’t figure out how he wanted to keep her. Keep her around, keep her his, keep her happy—all very different things. 

At the moment, that last day before Bay, Kayla, and he were to go back to Massachusetts, she was eagerly trying to catch the candy flavored droplets of her melting popsicle. Her lips were swollen and red. He found it distracting, but he enjoyed just watching her as he took slow drags from his blunt. They sat on her brother’s back porch, the sun blistering to the point where the chairs were far too hot to sit in and risk burning themselves. Bay sat with her short legs over the banister that Erik leaned against, his arms wrapped loosely around her so she wouldn’t fall.

He eyed her cooly, his eyes following the trail one droplet made out of the corner for her lip, only for it to be caught by the flick of her tongue. 

He wondered if he should do something about his partially hard dick tucked away into his sweatshorts—no boxers. He decided against it, her brother would be home soon and they were supposed to be going to his place in a few, anyhow.

He remembered when she’d first gone to his apartment. She had gotten very caught up in how ‘decent’ his things had been, but he was more interested in the way her sundress got very caught up in her ass. 

She hummed, just as her body still hummed, post-orgasmic tingles still raking through her body as she smiled contently, eyes shut. Her back was damp against his sheets, but she still wiggled in bliss until she felt Erik nudge her shoulder. “Hm?” He nudged her again, harder, so she’d open her eyes. His hand held a blunt. 

His eyebrows shot up at the apprehension in her expression as she eyed it. “You smoke?”

Her lips pursed tightly. “I’m an athlete.”

But she gnawed on her cheek. Her hands caught one another in a jerked motion. “That’s not what I asked.”

She looked at the blunt a few moments more, turned her eyes to Erik, snatched the blunt, and inhaled so hard and long he sat up to his elbows in alarm. Her cheeks puffed, her eyes crossed, and she handed it back to him, mouth still full of smoke. She’d look sheepish if not for the pure joy in her eyes. 

“Nobody told you to dome my shit. I had half a blunt left. This is a roach.” He examined it before cautiously placing it between his lips, glaring still.

“Sorry.” She said, voice thick because her words fought to be heard around the smoke she still hadn’t exhaled. She grinned, suddenly giggly, and the smoke escaped between her teeth. Not a single cough.

“Your lungs strong as hell, babygirl.” But he took one final puff and the current object of her affection was gone. She groaned. “Calm down, I’ve got more.” Normally, he’d be opposed to smoking up anybody he had over—a BYOW environment, always—but Bay’s thick eyelids were lowering over her angular eyes and the way she was looking at him put all types of thoughts in his head. “Can you roll?” 

She snorted. “Can I roll? I pearl that shit.” The high hit her like a brick. If it’d been two or three years ago, that hit would’ve been child’s play, but it’d been years since she’d even held weed. 

In her middle and high school years, she would wake up, roll up, go to school, come home, roll up, chill with friends, roll up, roll up again before she went to sleep, and then repeat the process. Not only did it leave her dirt broke most of the time, it got her into trouble more than a few times, and she was nothing close to a trouble child. She’d sworn it off until she’d opened her eyes to Erik, sweat making his abs and chest shiny, his lips all swollen around the blunt. One or two blunts couldn’t hurt anything; Erik wouldn’t hurt her.

Rolling up didn’t take long at all, since Erik had a grinder that made her inner pot head squeal with glee, and she had a fat, perfectly pearled blunt between her fingers while she lit it. She was so concentrated she didn’t notice him pick up her camera that had been sitting on the floor beside the bed and snap a few pictures. 

Round two was an experience Erik wouldn’t soon forget, her back was arched magnificently, as always, but instead of her face being scrunched and her body being tight as her orgasms built, there was a lazy cat-like grin on her face, and she was relaxed, as was he. His thrusts weren’t slow as much as they were unhurried, and his chest was pressed firmly against her shoulder blades so that he could pass her the blunt, and she back to him. At one point, he stopped, buried deep insider of her, inhaled, held the toxic vapor in his mouth, took her by the chin, and kissed her hard, letting her mouth be filled with what had been in his. The smoke made their moans husky and heavy, they sounded like the music to a song.

She was distracted by the shouts of the children on the sidewalk, so Erik took the opportunity to lean forward and bite what was left of her popsicle off the stick, slurping it up loudly when a bit threatened to slide down his chin. He chuckled at her pout and kissed her, the ice still melting between their mouths.


End file.
